Damon froze at the door.
The moment Stevan saw the visage of the emperor, all the drunkenness in his veins vanished. It evaporated like morning mist before the sun, or more accurately, like a man's will to live before his lover's older brother, who also happened to be the most powerful human in the known world.
Angela too, seeing her brother standing there, pushed Stevan away and said, "Get up and kneel. Now."
There was something profoundly undignified about the way they scrambled. Limbs tangled. Sheets twisted. A very unfortunate wet sound that Angela would remember with mortification for the rest of her natural life, which, depending on how this went, might not be very long.
While the two scrambled, Damon was standing there, expressionless, looking their direction. But while his face didn't move one bit, his hand had reached toward a big decorative vase near the door and lifted it up to his waist.
It was a very nice vase. Porcelain and expensive. Angela had always admired it.
